Bit like a wrung towel…
I have a Great Sister. (And a Great Brother. And a Great Family and Great Friends, but that’s a different topic…)
One of the nice things she regularly does is to send me cards that should make me feel goed, like “Bald is the new sexy”. Not sure the messages are always true, but most of the time, the cards work well.
When I entered the hospital last Thursday, she sent me one saying
Kicking cancer’s ass, one day at a time.
Maybe that was a mistake.
The thing is: cancer decided to kick back. So, I’ve been on temesta, valium, licitan and a few other wonders of modern medicine since the weekend, and, until yesterday, I felt like this towel:
Over the past days, I lost some kilos (there’s a huge commercial opportunity for weight loss through chemo!), but I’m back home now and getting stronger. Hey, I can even do the stairs all by myself! I’m beginning to feel more like a clean nicely folded towel:
I guess that, by tomorrow, I can start kicking cancer’s ass again…